“History of Sock” – W.N. Herbert

Sock is sold at
M & S slave block attached
at ankle to Siamese Sibling.
Owner frees Sock
with tender snip
of plastic connective tissue.

Sock is an inveterate something
without a bra, or
Sock is not an invertebrate, but
Sock is no sad sack, rather
full of shapeless hopes.
Sock regards Foot
as a parasite.

Sock is navy blue with
lycra and cotton content to
easily grasp Owner’s
concept of war against taste.
Sock empathises with Owner’s
restraint of irrational opinion;
Sock is a logical being.

Sock does not speak to
Sibling, whether
in drawer, basket or
resolving bin of deluge.
Sibling, on the other foot, regales
Sock with unlikely tales
of their common goal and bogcotton origins.
Sibling has
creative limpings.

Sock disdains creativity, sport
and sneakers, releasing heady
pungencies as defence.
Sock disdains lawn-treading
and weeding duties:
Sock is not a piece
of garden hosiery.

Sock is lost in soiled condition,
somewhere between Saturday
laundrette and
rented flat.

Dog in Voltairean mode
pisses on Sock.

Sock regards overnight stars
as possible subspecies of the cufflink.
Sock remembers being pulled on
to Owner’s hand
to be rolled over Sibling
in neat bundle. And
vice versa.

Further Dog in dog mode
sniffs and then pisses on Sock.

Owner having retraced sockless steps
locates Sock. Owner is appalled at
Sock’s apparent incontinence.
Sock is reunited with Sibling
to whom Sock does not speak:
Sibling limp-ankled poet, whereas
Sock has now seen Life.

Ninja @ Edinburgh

Hi there!

So much to blog about yet so little time! And, admittedly, I have not really felt like it. Recently, I’ve been inspired to write, though. Unluckily for you this fever is linked to my essay on ultimate attainment of late L2 speech production, rather than to my blogging activity. Nevertheless, I will make an attempt to catch up -- at least a bit. I apologise in advance for the poor writing style.

As I promised you before, this update will include a short overview of Ninja’s stay here (it would be impossible to try to limit that experience to mere words). In any case, Ninja was extraordinarily lucky as she arrived during the Student Festival Week, which is the students’ response to the fact that the two biggest happenings in Scotland (i.e. Hogmanay and The Fringe) fall outside university semesters.

She arrived in the evening; it is quite a walk from Waverley Station (where the bus from the airport arrives) to where I live, and that is why on our way we stopped to have dinner. The food we were served was quite interesting: it looked very good and appetising yet had no taste whatsoever (except for the oily taste of… oil). After dinner we dropped Ninja’s luggage in my room and together with Chiara we went for a pint at the Library Bar. Unfortunately I have no pictures of that evening, but rest assured, before you have finished reading this entry you will have seen enough (if not too many) pictures.

The next day, the weather was very fine, and the first thing we did was start climbing Arthur’s Seat.


Notice the rainbow in the top-left corner!


View on Edinburgh (rainbow included)


View on Edinburgh (Ninja included!)


View on Edinburgh (loch included)


View from the top -- I just love taking pictures from there!


Luckily I wasn’t the only one:


The picture below shows where I live, approximately (arrow on the left); and the right arrow points at the main library.


The place I am standing at is the actual top -- the other pictures are taken from a ‘near-top’ next to it; arguably, the near-top is the real top, though. I must admit I am not entirely sure which one is real; just to make sure, we’ve been on both.


The two of us sitting next to the ‘near-top’:


Magnificent view:


On our way back, we decided to take another route, which was a bit more challenging. The following picture is taken half-way; you can see we had come down a pretty steep path:


Naturally, the die-hards who have been on Arthur’s Seat will move on to St. Anthony’s Chapel -- as promised before (see entry on Jan 19), a bit more information this time. Prior to the 16th century, Holyrood Park was held by the Abbeys of Holyrood and Kelso. St. Anthony’s Chapel stands in the part which probably belonged to Kelso Abbey. The origin and history of the chapel are obscure, but it was certainly built no later than the early 15th century, as in 1426 it is recorded that the Pope gave money for its repair. The chapel may have been linked to the Preceptory of St. Anthony, a skin hospice, which was based in Leith around this time. The last chaplain is recorded in 1581. Although in ruinous condition, there is some indication from historical and archaeological research what it must have looked like; 18th century records describe it as being “a beautiful Gothic building, well suited to the rugged sublimity of the rock… at its west end, there was a tower… about forty feet high” (Hugot Arnot, The History of Edinburgh, 1779).


After our healthy exercise we decided to take a well-deserved break at Starbucks.


Since we were near the Scottish Parliament, we dropped in to listen to the MSPs (Members of the Scottish Parliament) debating about how to teach the subject of Scottish history at secondary schools. I will blog more about the Parliament at a later point in (blog)life.

In the evening, there was a ceilidh (pronounced “cay” “lee” ['kjhe:lji:] >> ok, the lay-out messed up my IPA transcript: it should read 'a palatalised aspirated [k] followed by [e:], then the next syllable starts with a palatalised [l] followed by [i:]; stress falls on the first syllable (hence the aspiration)') organised by the university union; a ceilidh is the traditional Gaelic dance in Scotland, but it is still very popular (at least among students). This night’s theme was “Irate Pirate Ceilidh”, barrels of pirate punch included, and hence Ninja and I dressed up as “Tesco Pirates”:


We thought we had put quite some effort into our costumes, but it turned out that Scots take theme parties very seriously: they had dressed up as if they were extras in Pirates of the Caribbean. They must have loads of clothing stuffed in their closets to make sure they have appropriate attire for every theme, and they have many (thematic) parties here.

The following day, we headed towards Princes Street, crossing the Meadows (park), passing Bobby Greyfriars (statue), and were forced to take a tea break at Elephant House (the café where J.K. Rowling wrote the first drafts to the Harry Potter series) due to Edinburgh weather being at its best: it was frigging snowing!

After tea, we had a quick look at the castle but as (i) we had already visited the castle and (ii) the weather was uncompromising, we didn’t enter.



View from Edinburgh Castle; obscured by the snow. You can still recognise Arthur’s Seat, though.


Walking on to Princes Street, we shopped for a bit, and had some fish & chips at a nice place in Rose Street (which runs parallel to Princes Street). In the meantime, a blizzard had developed and we had to walk home through the raging storm. We might have taken a bus, but I didn’t know which one… I must admit that I am clueless as to the public transport network. We might have asked, but, after all, how many people can say they walked through a blizzard and survived?

In the evening, it was time for the German Bierfest (‘beer festival’): “Bodacious Bierhalle”.


After the Bierfest, we headed to the Library Bar (conveniently located in the same building).



On Friday, we started off with a Scottish Breakfast (I must admit it was the vegetarian variant), after which I had to go to class (MCLA) and had an article discussion (Crisma 2007). We had lunch at the main library, after which I had another class (historical phonology). In the afternoon we went to Old College (where the Law Faculty is situated) and visited the beautiful Playfair Library Hall, and up to Calton Hill. After dinner, we went to Peter’s place for a Kitchen Party (if I haven’t explained this before: a Kitchen Party basically entails getting together in somebody’s kitchen and drinking whatever you brought with you), which ended by going to l’Espionage, one of Edinburgh’s many clubs.

Me & Chiara:


Ninja & me:


Ninja, me, & Chiara:


Needless to say, it was a great evening. Without going into details, I will leave you with the information that I met a very nice Irish pilot, but I’ve never seen him since. We had a lot of fun.

Unfortunately, the next day Ninja had to leave. For the last time we walked on Clerk Street/Nicolson Street/South Bridge/North Bridge (the street keeps changing names) towards Waverley Station.


At the airport we had our last tea (Ninja) / coffee (me) together, and said our goodbyes. I was sorry to see her go, but it was a great holiday.

I realise that I am still very much behind, but now I’ve at least finished telling you about January!

Lots of love from Edinburgh!

Cheers,
B


"Where does phonology live? It doesn't live in the sky; it lives in people's heads." - Lecturer at Edinburgh University

An' cut you up wi' ready slicht

Dear all,

This entry will be my first effort to catch up on my blogging. Hence, it will not discuss Edinburghian life up till the point I currently find myself, but rather, it will look back at experiences which occurred long long ago (i.e. January). The last time I left you I referred to Calton Hill and the seaside, so let me start at that.

Calton Hill is the headquarters of the Scottish Government, which is based at St Andrew's House, on the steep southern slope of the hill; with the Scottish Parliament Building, and other key buildings, for example Holyrood Palace, lying near the foot of the hill. The hill also includes several iconic monuments and buildings: the National Monument, Nelson’s Monument, the Dugald Stewart Monument, the New Parliament House (the Royal High School) and the City Observatory. On the eastern slope, the tomb of David Hume is situated (David Hume (1711-1776) was a Scottish philosopher, economist, and historian; he is considered to be one of the most important figures in the history of Western philosophy and Scottish Enlightenment). He wrote his own epitaph: “Born 1711, Died [----]. Leaving it to posterity to add the rest.” Naturally, the year of his death was engraved on the actual tomb. (source: wikipedia)


View from Calton Hill; to the right you can see the Dugald Stewart Monument, which is a memorial to the Scottish philosopher Dugald Stewart (1753-1828).


The National Monument is a memorial to those who died in the Napoleonic Wars (c. 1803-1815). It is modelled upon the Parthenon in Athens, and its construction started in 1822. Below you can see the National Monument, with to the right Nelson’s Monument (a commemorative tower to Admiral Horatio Nelson, 1758-1805). (wikipicture)


The monument is famous for being only partially complete. According to documentary evidence, the monument was intended to be a full replica of the Parthenon, but money ran out midway through construction and only one side of the structure was completed. The city of Glasgow reportedly offered to cover the costs but Edinburgh was too proud to accept the other city’s charity. As a result, the monument is often given the nickname Edinburgh’s Disgrace or Edinburgh’s Folly. (source: wikipedia)

Aside from the historical aspect, the monument proved to be irresistible to clamber:


View from Edinburgh’s Disgrace:


The colours are breathtaking when the sun is coming through (which, admittedly, doesn’t happen very often):


Enjoying the view:


In good spirits we set off towards the seaside of Edinburgh, hoping to catch a glimpse of the ocean. Indeed, after 1.5 hours of brisk walking I wasn’t settling for anything less. Needless to say, I was disappointed; we ended up at the docks and all we saw were (partly) corroded ships and strange objects such as shearlegs. The following picture was the only one worth taking:


To exemplify the dismal atmosphere: we found a sign leading to a picnic spot at the seaside, but when we got there the view behind the picnic tables was onto a huge car park and I made a picture of the view you had on the ocean:


However, we found a mall and I couldn’t resist the temptation of commerce; notably, I bought Amsterdam by Ian McEwan (familiar to some of you as the author of Atonement). No, regardless of what you are saying, I was not feeling homesick. I have wanted to buy the book ever since I saw Atonement during the Leids Film Festival, and the reason I bought Amsterdam in particular is because it won the Man Booker prize. As some of you know I have taken on the challenge of reading all books which won the Man Booker prize, and being a collector at heart I have to own them as well.

In any case, I liked the book very much -- it reminded me a bit of Coetzee with regard to the style, and in my opinion the ironic, bleak, and absurd story line indeed leads to “a psychologically brilliant study of heartlessness” (Sunday Telegraph), even though that might be a bit of an exaggeration.

On a side note, I also read Anne Enright’s The Gathering, and although it wasn’t bad it wasn’t my cup of tea; however, to be fair to it I will add the comment of the Irish Times: “a fresh, sophisticated take on the dysfunctional family saga.” Needless to say, Enright is Irish.

Currently, I have started reading The Blind Assassin by Margaret Atwood (from Canada), and so far I have trouble understanding the plot: definitely a good sign. It reminds me of Atonement in the sense that the narrator is an old woman, and Atwood makes extensive use of mis-en-abyme (story within a story; as for instance in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, or The Modern Prometheus). However, as I’m only at one tenth of the book, I cannot say more about it.

That’s quite enough about literature, I dare say! I’ll move on to Burns night, which basically is an excuse to have Burns supper. It is quite a happening around here and follows some rules which are duly adhered to. After the start of the evening, the haggis is ceremoniously brought in (i.e. everybody is standing and a bagpipe player accompanies the entrance of the haggis). Next somebody recites Address To a Haggis, during which the speaker plunges a knife into the haggis and cuts it open from end to end (at a designated line in the poem). According to wikipedia the ceremony is more extensive, but I know only of the above mentioned facts that they actually occur. Finally, it should be added that I have not dared to taste it.

The morning after Burns night, we decided to go to Duddingston, a village to the east of Edinburgh (walking distance). The reason being that we were not really able to do anything but cognitively undemanding tasks, such as walking and breathing. The name Duddingston, or Dodin’s Village, dates to the 12th century and replaced an older Celtic name, Treverlen.

Duddingston Loch is surrounded by a park, the rocky crags of which are the remains of a volcano that erupted into a tropical landscape 350 million years ago. People first came to the park about 9,000 years ago, using it firstly for hunting, and later for farming, and defensive, industrial and religious purposes. From the 12th century AD it was used as a hunting ground by successive Scottish kings, and was formally designated a Royal Park in the 16th century.

In the 18th century a large hoard of Bronze Age artefacts was dredged from the bottom of the loch. It included bronze swords and spear heads, all around 3,000 years old, which had been broken before being placed in the loch, possibly as part of some ritual or ceremony. Or perhaps the hoard was simply scrap metal.

The loch is currently a bird sanctuary, and you can see swans and one-legged birds:



In the village itself, Duddingston Kirk (Church) dates from the 12th century. The fine Romanesque doorway and chancel arch still remain, outside the gate there is a 17th century ‘loupin-on-stane’ to help horsemen mount, and the ‘jougs’, a punishment collar. Unfortunately, though, the gate was closed; nevertheless some of us tried to break in and in our attempt we made a picture of the lock to be able to see the mechanism better.


Needless to say, our efforts were fruitless and after a police car came around the corner, causing us to casually lean against the gate with our hands accidentally touching the lock from the other side, we beat a retreat.

The final treasure Duddingston had to offer was its pub: The Sheep Heid Inn (note the spelling of Heid!!), which is said to be one of the oldest in Scotland. Indeed, fact is that an inn has stood on the site since the 16th century (in 1580 King James VI presented the landlord with an embellished ram’s head); however, the present building is mainly 19th century, and an attempt by the owners to create a historic atmosphere fell on flat ears, mainly because their strategy consisted of dimming the light and cramming the place with all knickknacks they could find (I feel compelled to point out that they a shelf with all Charles Dickens’ novels on it).



As I am writing this entry, it is quite astonishing to realise how much I have been doing here – I never remember being this energetic in the Netherlands. I am going to do all the touristy things in Leiden when I’m back, though.

Next time I will report about Ninja’s stay at Edinburgh – she visited me for four days and all I am saying now is that we had a jolly good time! I might add that it was the week of the Student Festival, which is subtitled as “A Celebration of Student Life.” I rest my case.

Until I write again!

Cheers,
Beata


"Obviously, it is not the case that phonemes think" - Lecturer at Edinburgh University

High heels, sunset, and (a lack of) white wine.

A very good morning to you!

As you might have noticed, I have decided to come up with some more interesting titles. They are a bit misleading, though. You’ll see.

Thanks for all your comments, and I decided to stick with the system of responding to derivations on the page they were derived (that is, I didn't think about a different way).

In any case, this is going to be another attempt at a relatively short update (hopefully succesful), and this time it is preceded by a bit of a preview of what you can expect. It includes some interesting progress on my part resulting in the announcement -of which I’m quite proud I might add- that I haven’t gotten lost at all in these past days! On the downside, some other unfortunate traits of my character relating to finding my way around were revealed. On the adventurous aspect I found myself hiking in high heels (Arthur’s Seat); and to keep in touch with non-Scottish culture we visited IKEA. Finally, I experimented with cooking.

Arthur’s Seat is the main peak of the group of hills which form most of Holyrood Park, a remarkably wild piece of highland landscape in the centre of the city of Edinburgh, about a mile to the east of Edinburgh Castle. The hill rises above the city to a height of 251 m and provides excellent panoramic views of the city. Many claim that its name is a derivation of a myriad of legends pertaining to King Arthur, such as the reference in Y Gododdin. However, it has also been claimed that the name is a corruption of the phrase “Archer’s Seat” on the supposition that the rock was a significant point of city defence in the Middle Ages. (source: wikipedia)

The picture below is taken (more or less) at the foot of Arthur’s Seat:


The climb began quite innocently, and even after a few minutes the view was worth taking a picture of:


The view was truly magnificent and at a certain point we got to a plateau (from left to right: Phil, Steffi, Lenka, Anna (henceforth Annavera), Anna, Peter, me, Anna – picture taken by Chiara):


The final bit to the top was quite rocky and we really had to climb a bit; however, it was definitely worth it! At the top of the Seat it was incredibly windy (when I figure out how to upload videos I will add some of them, but don’t get your hopes up yet) and the feeling of achievement was definitely present. The view was incredible:


And my favourite one, I think, capturing the stormy weather; even now, when I’m writing this entry, I feel the wind in my hair and the overwhelming sense of being so powerful and so small at the same time – the world is truly lying at your feet and the very air breathes of freedom. I love it!


Chiara shooting a group picture:


One of the group pictures:


The actual peak:


At the beginning of the hill leading to Arthur’s Seat people have built a small chapel (dating from the 15th century); unfortunately I haven’t remembered what it was about exactly but I might come back to it later. In any case, a picture of St Anthony’s Chapel:


The final picture of the trip to Arthur’s Seat shows proof of the fact that I walked up that hill on high heels.


As to my room, I know you must be incredibly curious, but I will let you stew for a little longer. Even though I bought bed linen, I am too lazy to take pictures right now, and the only ones I took don’t really show the colours faithfully (you will never guess the colour of the covers, though; it is entirely out of character). Moreover, my room needs that extra bit of cleaning before I can take proper pictures. However, I will not leave you with nothing; one of my flatmates is a very good cook, and here you can see Ana (Spain) cooking something delicious:


Due to the horrible food here in Scotland (UK really), I have been forced to cook. Interestingly enough I do not mind it as much as I might have thought; rather, I’m starting to experiment! The first time, I had baked potatoes (which turned out ok-ish, 5 out of 10), courgette (6.5), and chicken… the chicken fillets were quite expertly prepared, really. I put them in the frying pan and looked for something to give them any taste: in one of the kitchen cabinets I found a sifter reading “SPICE”, and I sprinkled the chicken generously in order to make it more spicy. You cannot fathom my surprise that the smell the powder emitted was sweet rather than spicy, though. It turned out to be cinnamon. Dinner was quite interesting, I can tell you!

However, after a recovery period of some days, I decided not to be put down by this slight set-back; undeterred by the fact that last time it had gone wrong partly because I had no recipe, this evening I again just made something which -theoretically- seemed like a tasty combination: a pasta with cream cheese with garlic, courgette, and mushrooms (I forgot to buy the white wine). It needs some improvement (pepper, onions) but the fundaments have been laid.

Last Wednesday I didn’t have any bed linen yet and some others also needed household items, and considering we have Swedes in our midst, it was not an odd decision to go to Ikea. The others were happy enough to allow me to figure out the route and I had looked up everything on googlemaps and made a nice note, which included street names and the like. I estimated the walk to take a bit over half an hour, say, 40 minutes. It was a sunny day and we set off after lunch:


On our way, we passed this cathedral; notice the brilliant azure colour of the sky.


After walking through the city for three quarters of an hour we found a meadow and you can see our enthusiasm to get some reprieve of stone and asphalt; as Annavera adequately commented ‘the cows were turned out to pasture.’


View from the meadow:


From left to right: Peter, Annavera, Chiara, and Anna:


However, the walk turned out to be quite a bit longer than 40 minutes; it was becoming dark and we still hadn’t reached our destination. It did offer opportunities for pictures, though:


Feeling quite despearte -and hungry- we were very relieved when Annavera was the first to spot the familiar blue and yellow of Ikea -- looking forward to some Swedish meatballs (kötbullar), she was sure she could read the “I” out of IKEA, until the moment we got closer…


For a moment we feared that the Edinburgh outlet of Ikea was still under construction! However, it turned out to be just some indistinct construction site.

It was becoming darker still..


Finally we arrived at our destination: IKEA!


The first thing we did was wolf down our meatballs and then shopped for everything (don’t worry, I won’t bore you with all the details, but I would like to mention I bought a tea ball); however, we took the bus home rather than walk back. Later, I found out the distance we had walked was just over 4.1 miles (which is over 6.5 km I think).

A random oddity I discovered in talking to an American: even though America is called "the United States of America" Washington D.C. isn’t a state and might technically be considered not to be a part of the US.

Finally, people have been telling me to have fun, which I take include going out and drinking. I ensure you I have had no lack of alcohol (actually, this is the first day in ages that I haven’t had a drop of alcohol in my body, and that’s just because I forgot to buy white wine for the sauce); however, the pictures resulting from those excesses will not be widely available -- additionally, I prefer pictures of landscapes on my blog. However, just to give you some impression; you cannot see my glass but the drinks we had that night included whiskey, red and white wine, and beer.


I feel this hasn’t been my best update ever, but it will have to do for now :) Maybe it feels this way, because the entry has so little (if any) phonology/linguistics in it. I will have to make up for that.

Tomorrow we’re off to Calton Hill and going to saunter along the coast (Edinburgh is situated by the sea). The trip to Glasgow has been postponed until further notice (for no particular reason).

Cheers,
Beata


“It has been suggested that TRISH [trisyllabic shortening] is a figment of linguists’ imaginations” – Lecturer at Edinburgh University